waste no more time
by owedbetter
Summary: No one knew where The Painted Lady of Republic City came from. They only know that one day, she did. Healing the sick, fighting injustice where she could, and ruining profiteering capitalist organisations when she could. A tale of justice, love, and revolution. [a modern zutara au, slow burn & mature.]
1. Prologue

**PROLOGUE**

* * *

To anyone who asked, she was never here.

She kept her legs crossed and her piercing gold eyes half lidded from her sunglasses, facing forward, staring directly into the rear-view mirror. Her driver, wearing sunglasses as well in the dead hours of the night still, kept making surreptitious glances at her eyes in the mirror. She could tell from the way his eyebrows moved.

Azula never so much as blinked whenever he was looking. The most she would move would be a simple tilt of her head. Her lips never moved from her pout. One might easily mistake her as one of her shadows from the way she kept so still. She liked the way she made him so afraid.

As the car slowed to a halt, the sound of rain against her windows became more prominent. It was the only time she allowed for her gaze to drift, out into the streets, to survey her surroundings. The soft thrum of the car's engine had died. Before her, the streets were barely lit in the dim orange glow of streetlamps. Sewers and storm drains were clogged with nearby litter and tiny flooded puddles pooled around everywhere.

It was clear that there wasn't another soul in sight in this filthy, rat-infested corner of the city. The slums were the last places she would ever be caught dead in and yet, and yet – she was sent here on a task. And she was not one to fail; she was not her brother.

"We're here," said her driver.

He kept his leather glove-clad hands on the steering wheel, ready for her instructions. Lightning-quick (and she would know) did her eyes return to him and she watched him swallow his fear, the tell-tale movement of his throat as she lingered in the anticipation. Azula raised a neatly maintained brow at him and watched him shiver. It was almost enough to get her to smirk, if she were not so dreading leaving her vehicle.

"Double back to the convenience store we passed," she said, angling her sunglasses up to cover her eyes. She straightened her bright red coat tighter against her as she picked up the silver briefcase by her feet. "Get yourself something _instant_ and then come back. I won't be long."

Normally, she would have had him open her door for her – as was customary. They did not have the time to spare that night on formalities.

She opened the door on her side – princesses, after all, did not slide – and opened a black umbrella to shelter herself from the rain. With the hand that carried the briefcase, she shut the car door firmly shut and it drove off immediately.

Immediately, her senses were overwhelmed by the stench of it all. The fetor of stale piss and rain-soaked filth was _almost_ enough to get her eyes to water in disgust. _Almost_. Cockroaches scurried from grates, escaping the incoming floodwater, she found, and she heard the squeaks of rats as they jumped from hole to hole. An iron gate greeted her, as the instructions told her she would face, with white walls surrounding it – if it could still be called white, what with all the posters and multi-coloured graffiti that vandalised it.

Despite her distaste, this was not a social call. She went on.

Azula passed through the squeaky gate and up the rain soaked stairs. As she reached the door at the top of the stairs, she entered the premises and was able to tuck her umbrella back into a cane. Immediately, the smell changed from stale piss to that of decay… as if something had just died in these halls, like that of a half-eaten mouse or a bird who did not quite know where it was flying. The sound of rain, at least, was muffled here.

Upon entering, she was greeted by the sight of a long stretch of a hallway where, at the end where the hallway forked into two directions, there was a woman at the other end. Her face was painted pure white with red markings and she had her hands behind her back. Poise intact, she gave no indication that her surroundings had unsettled her – and they hadn't. It would take more than _that_ to get her to be uneasy. This, she told herself, was nothing more than a petty nuisance. She sneered and walked leisurely to the other woman.

She raised her brows in greeting, angling her head so as to reveal her gold eyes from being covered by her sunglasses that she insisted on wearing despite the hour and the weather. She might not be as inconspicuous as requested but she would be damned before she let her aesthetic drop. The other woman revealed that she was holding a scanner behind her back and gestured that she would have to scan her. Azula rolled her eyes.

"Is this _really_ necessary?" she said. "You _know_ who I am."

"Protocol, ma'am," said the other woman. "Arms up, please."

Azula did as she was bid – but not without showing her disdain with a disapproving scoff and another roll of her eyes. As she was scanned, the other woman nodded and bid for the princess to follow her down the right side of the hallway.

"This…" Azula started. " _This_ is your headquarters?"

"No," said the other woman. "As a precaution, we never meet our clients in the same place. This office was chosen for you."

"So it's _personal_ ," she deduced.

The other woman gave no sound to indicate a response. All she could hear was the click and clack of her boots against the tiled floors. The cheap fluorescent lights buzzed and flickered as she passed through the hallway and she could tell that there were tiny insects that had perished within the casings. Every part of this building screamed of disrepair.

"Tell me, do I _know_ him?"

"We're not at liberty to disclose personal identities," she replied.

"But _is_ it a him?"

"We're not at liberty—"

"You bore me."

That was that.

The hallway stretched on and Azula said nothing else as this woman was clearly not one who held any cards at the table. Nothing more than a glorified guidebook, she was, and she had no time to spare for anyone who was not part of the board.

Finally, they reached one of the rickety doors and the other woman opened it for her and gestured for her to enter the room. She did and she was greeted by another woman in identical makeup, in the same kind of green-suit, with the same kind of red markings on her face. She knew what and who these women represented, of course. Everyone in any business knew how there was no such defense as that one offered by Kyoshi Security Services LLC. There was a stark difference between the other women of Kyoshi and the one who greeted her at the table, however.

The difference was that this one had grey eyes and a short haircut that Azula could place anywhere. It was as if she weren't even hiding. Bold of her, Azula had to admit, and _dangerous_. Perhaps it was a clue as she was not one to believe in coincidences.

"You," Azula greeted. "You're _him?_ "

"No," said the other woman. "As a precaution, they never meet their clients face on. They outsource us at Kyoshi Security for maximum deniability."

"And _you're_ with Kyoshi Security?"

"Have we met?" said the other woman, a faux innocence in her lilt – bait, if Azula ever heard it. She would know; she invented that tone. And she would not fall for it. So, she simply sat on the chair in front of her.

"You know… working for a third party goes against the Conflict of Interest you signed," Azula goaded.

"That would mean you would have to testify that you were here," said the woman from Kyoshi Security. "And that you've associated yourself with this office to have any inkling of who and _what_ I am, assuming that a jury would accept your testament as anything more than hearsay. And, as it is, there are no records of your currently being here, isn't that right?"

"Is that any way to speak to a client?"

"Feel free to take your business elsewhere, Princess."

"Do you actually _know_ who you're working for?"

"That's neither here nor there," the woman responded. A beat later, she asked, "Do you have what you were asked to bring?"

Azula rose from her seat and placed the silver briefcase on the table before them with gusto. She unlocked the mechanism that fastened it, opened the case, and spun the case around to show the woman the inordinate amount of cash that was inside the case. As promised. The woman showed no response of shock or awe to the amount; she simply nodded and closed the case and placed it next to her. To add insult to injury, she smiled with pressed, dark lips.

The princess simply returned to her seat and leaned against the back of it, her arm atop its frame with her hand bent toward her face, her fingers in a relaxed but graceful position.

"Your man better be good for the money he's demanding," she said. Her every word was calculated. They might have agreed to this course of action but they were not so completely incompetent so as to give them blind trust. Yet this person they were hiring, it seemed, knew what they were doing when they hired Kyoshi Security.

"You already know _they_ are," said the woman, not taking the bait.

"We want this done quickly," said Azula. " _Quietly._ And we want the package _alive_."

"They charge by the hour, plus expenses, for a job like this, as you know," said the woman. "Cash. Non-traceable, as agreed."

"Check the numbers. You'll find we're good for it and more."

"We'll contact you once we've ensured that your payment is solid and fits the parameters, and that your case isn't bugged," said the woman. She opened a drawer, reached for papers inside, and placed it on the desk. On top of it, she placed a pen.

"Sign on the dotted line, please," she said.

"You expect me to sign something without me reading it? This _cannot_ be legal."

"We don't have the most orthodox ways of doing things but isn't that why you need us?" Azula simply rolled her eyes, scoffed, and leaned forward to give her begrudging signature on the dotted line, as instructed. The woman smiled and folded the contract, and tucked it into her inner coat pocket.

"The contract will begin once we've cleared your payment and you will receive regular updates at the settled upon schedule with a burner phone that you _will_ find in your home within the next 48 hours and the document you signed gives them the legal right to enter your premises, in the unlikely event that they're caught for trespassing. Which is purely precautionary, really. They never get caught."

"Does your man have no faith?"

"In you?" she asked, amusement clear in her voice. Even with her painted face, there was no missing the smirk. " _No._ But they're willing to work for you, at least. It's why you're here."

"Your customer service is appalling," said Azula, finally getting up to her feet. Her phone in her pocket buzzed, which could only be her driver who had pulled back up to the building.

"And yet, you're still here," said the woman from Kyoshi Security. "Is that all?"

"Yes, that'll be all," the princess replied. "I expect results, _Kyoshi._ "

"Only the best," she replied, bright as ever. "Speak soon."

As Azula left the room and walked down the hall, escorted by the same Kyoshi Warrior who walked her into it in the first place, she heard that woman's voice answer a call. Her voice was as bright as it was just then and it made her cringe. She loathed to leave something as important as this matter to a third, unknown party but her father had been clear in his order. The Royal Family could not risk being exposed in this particular matter.

And so, finally, as Azula left the building in which she was never in, the last thing she heard from that office that she legally did not know about… was the woman speaking into her phone with the same clear, high, 'customer service' voice that she'd used on her when she first entered the number to contact them in the first place—

"Hello, _Blue Spirit Investigations_. How can we help?"

* * *

 **A/N:** A modern Zutara AU coming soon to a Zutara Month 2k18 near you! Stay tuned, friends. (But this au will probably not be finished within the span of ZK month, only introduced.)

A few notes: 1) everyone is an adult in their mid-20s in this au and it's important to me that you know that going in 2) there _will_ be some scenes and language that may not be appropriate for children or those sensitive to scenes depicting future violence (new proper warning tags for particular situations + new characters will be added as they appear in chapters) or explicit situations.

See y'all soon. :)


	2. Chapter 1: Enough

**A/N:** Surprise, kids. Bet you thought you'd seen the last of me. It only took two years and a pandemic for me to get back to this but here we are. Do let me know what you think! #DefendPressFreedom

* * *

" _Good is not a thing you are. It's a thing you do. I'll never be 'ready'. But I can be ready enough._ "

\- Kamala Khan, Ms Marvel (2015) #5

* * *

 **PART ONE: CLOSED**

The day that changed her life began like any other. Many, centuries later, would mark the awakening as the day it all changed instead, but they would be wrong. See, big moments came from smaller movements and even smaller realisations. A single straw could break a camel's back when it has been carrying the weight of the world on its shoulders for too long.

And the story of Katara Iluak — and the myth of the Painted Lady of Republic City — started here.

It started on the day she said: _enough_.

* * *

 _ **KATARA**_

(Six months ago)

They teach you to dream when you're younger, she thought bitterly.

Dream big, dream high. You can be _anything_ you want to be if you just set your mind to it, said the slogans on every childhood book and scroll she could remember. It was the moral of the story to _every_ story. They tell you to aspire for something more, to follow these dreams of yours, and to become everything you've ever wanted to be.

What absolute _bullshit_.

Katara stood alone in the smoker's alley behind her office building, OZAI I.O.C. People often gathered here to bemoan their tasks of the day, only to return upstairs to do the same thing all over again. She supposed that she was one in the same, without the vices. It was the only place she could feel she could get away from the prying eyes of the security cameras and human resources.

Her hands shook as she stared at them but she wasn't really looking at them either. She didn't know what she was looking at.

She didn't know what she was doing here but the cool, recycled air of her office cubicle seemed to suffocate her. Part of her wished she smoked so she would have a fair enough reason to be out here but she didn't. She wanted to stand there, stare at a wall, and scream; Katara did only two of those things. She held her own arms, holding herself, and held in her tears.

What good would crying do?

What good did crying _ever_ do?

She had been here so many times before.

"Hey," said Suki.

Katara turned her head to her. She couldn't bring herself to smile but Suki did. A small, sad one. "I heard you got called in. How bad was it?"

Her blue eyes rolled and she couldn't help but laugh.

"Word spread that fast?"

"I know the look," Suki replied. "How bad?"

"Awful," she replied.

She looked back out at the alley, staring at a grey cement wall. There were small spackles of graffiti on it that had long since been washed away. It was the back alley of their office building, where others often came to smoke and the remnants of their cigarettes were being carried to the storm drains by grease-filled dirty water. The sewers were blocked by weeds, empty juice packets, and discarded, single-use plastic bags. Rot hung in the air like corpses on nooses that hadn't been discarded.

It wasn't the worst smell she'd ever known in the city.

Katara sighed.

"I had to take a bad call yesterday," she started to explain. "Something about how this doctor was given an overpayment for a little old lady's dialysis because somebody tracked down her medical history and now we're claiming a pre-determination clause."

"Oh, no."

"The company's not going to pay for her care. The doctor can't do anything about it— _I_ can't do anything about it." Her quiet voice broke, tears threatening to flow from her eyes. She felt her hands start to shake.

"Katara—" Suki tried to interrupt, but she had more to say.

"I _tried_ to help her. I did. I looked for every loophole I could find to try to get her her claim but instead, they called me up today to tell me off. And they made me—"

She took a sharp exhale and swallowed roughly. Her breath hitched.

"They'd called the woman up to the office today to discuss her claim," she managed to continue. "To the evaluation room, the one with the one-way mirror. Joo Dee made me watch and she… Spirits, she told that woman that we wouldn't—we _won't_ help her. That there was nothing that we could do to help her get her procedure. And when she sent the woman away, she called me in to say that that was a demonstration so that next time, I would _'stay professional'_ and not get _'too emotional'_."

She raised both hands and rounded the phrases with air quotes to make her point, adapting Joo Dee's voice; a voice that could only be described as saccharine—too fucking sweet to be anything but artificial and manufactured, just like everything else about her.

"Katara, I don't know what to say..."

The blue-eyed girl put on a face as she repeated the words that were thrown back at her, the same known forced smile that everyone saw through. " _This is just the harsh reality of the business, sweetie. You just have to accept that there's nothing we can do about this right now. After all, we don't pay you to save the world._

"She raised her eyebrows at me with that stupid smirk on her face, you know the one," Katara continued, "and just looked at me like I was this stupid, naive little girl who didn't know any better."

Suki shook herself as if she were shivering. Made a face of disgust as the impression was only too uncanny. "These people are monsters."

"If you can still call them that. Before she sent me off, Joo Dee told me to stick to the script. And that there wouldn't be a next time if I mess up again."

"Katara, I'm so sorry. I'm so, _so_ sorry."

"Part of me just wants to quit, you know? Just leave. Do something that actually matters and makes a difference."

"But?"

"But this is the third job I've had in two years that's been exactly like this. They're all the same and nothing changes from where we stand. We don't get to do anything that actually matters. And truth be told, Sokka and I can't really afford for me to quit this job now. I need the pay too much and it kills me that I don't have a _choice_." Katara sighed and let her shoulders drop.

Suki nodded and reached for her hand, giving it a squeeze. Hers were tired eyes too that knew too well to say anything then. She kept silent and let her friend talk uninterrupted.

"This is a treatment that could save that woman's life and the people we work for found a way _not_ to help her so the company can make more money. Suki— _this_ is what we do?" she said, crying now. Suki threw her arm around her and held her friend close. Katara continued, "I feel sick. I feel like… nothing. I don't even feel like a person inside anymore, there's just nothing there."

' _I could help her. I could heal her. I could fix this,_ ' she wants to say but doesn't.

"I hear you, Katara," she told her quietly. "I wish it could be different, I really do."

Katara sighed. "Thanks for coming out here... to, you know, check in on me."

"Of course," she said. "You know I've always got your back." A pause. "Is there anything I can do?"

"I don't think there's anything anyone _can_ do…"

"There has to be something, even just… Oh, I know, I could set you up with someone!" Suki said, her voice noticeably higher. Forced. It merited half a smile from her at the very least. "I know just the guy. He's perfect, a little damaged and dark so that's just your type, and—"

"Suki, no, how does a _guy_ hel—"

"It doesn't even have to be for love," she said.

"Suki—"

"Though it could go there—"

"Su—"

"I mean, when was the last time you even got laid?"

"Suki!"

" _Please!_ " said the older girl. Exasperated, wild-eyed, and a little afraid.

She took Katara by the shoulders and the shorter girl was pliable in her hands, following with the motions, and rolling her eyes like she'd heard it all before. And she had. There were tears at the corner of her grey eyes though her lips smiled still, though forced. An exhausted, forced kind of joy.

"It's been, what? Two years since Jet? Who have you gone out with since then?"

"There was Haru!"

"One-night stands with good guys from HR don't count."

"I went out with him again!"

"Getting the stuff you'd left the night before absolutely does not count as a second date—ugh! Come _on_ , Katara!" she said. "Please... please, let me do this for you. Let me do _something_ for you."

"No!" Katara replied, almost laughing but it was not a joke. "Why do you even care so much?"

Her tone was almost sarcastic.

"Of _course_ I care!" Suki replied. She bent her knees and exclaimed it upwards to the wind. There was that laugh again in her voice but the humour had long since been taken from them. "You're miserable all the time! And I get it and this couldn't have helped!" She rubbed the other girl's arms. A gesture of comfort. "You _know_ that I get it. You _know_ I hate this job as much as you do. But that doesn't mean we can't try to find some kind of joy in other things. You said it yourself, there's nothing we can do from where we stand. But we can help _each other_. And as things are going, Sokka and I are pretty concerned you might be slipping back. And, look, listen, I know depression's not easy and we want to help, we want—"

"And getting laid is supposed to help with… my depression?" Despite her better judgment, Katara felt herself start to cry and laugh at the same time.

There was a tightness in her chest, a coiling sensation—like she was just about to take flight. The air around her and the air in her throat were both too thick. There was the sound of her heartbeat in her ears and at the soles of her feet but the beat was too fast, too thunderous—like she had become ten different people at once. Her hands started to shake with ravenous warmth. She was about to burst into flame, or it certainly felt like it. _Suki was pushing too hard and the anxiety was getting into her veins again_ , she reasoned. Her breath felt too short and everything inside her screamed to take in all she could. That there was so much more out there to take. All of this took place in the time it took to take a breath.

"Well—"

"Suki, no," she said, her voice steadier than how she felt. "No."

"I-I'm sorry to push," Suki continued, distancing herself. "You know I only do this because I care about you. It's just that something new might be good for you, you know?"

"I know you mean well."

"You could go back to therapy," Suki suggested.

"You and I both know I can't afford therapy right now."

"Which is why we're encouraging you to meet new people at the very least. Or hang out with _us_ more. _Something_ ," she said, nearly pleading now. " _Anything_ to help."

"I just feel so…" said Katara, eyes darting away to stare back at the wall. It hadn't seen fresh paint in a long time. "Stuck," she finished.

"It's not depression this time," she continued. "Or it's more than that. It's something else. It's like—there's so much more I could be doing. Like there's just something I'm supposed to do. Someone else that I'm supposed to be. Not just this—stuck to my desk for the rest of my life, living paycheck to paycheck, and using my weekends to catch up on sleep until I die kind of life."

The words poured out of her before she had the sense to stop them. There was emotion, pure and raw, in her words. This was not the first time she had spoken these words. Something inside of her told her that this would not be the last time either. Her heart hurt in her chest, her lungs were aching for more than air. They ached for much, much more.

"That's not a life. Not one I want. Not one I want to keep living."

"Katara…"

"No, no, I know what that sounds like. You don't have to worry about me like that, I'm just thinking out loud." Katara sighed. "What am I supposed to do about all this, you know?"

"About what?"

"About everything," she answered. "I thought I had it all figured out but here I am… 24 with nothing to show for it. Saying the exact things I've been saying for years and nothing's changed." Katara sighed and wiped her face. "Suki, aren't you tired?"

"Of _course_ I am," she said. "But we do what we can. We help each other. And you know that I am always here for you." Suki moved to get her phone out of her pocket and saw the message. Ty Lee. Joo Dee was starting to ask where they were.

"We have to go back to our tables now. Joo Dee's on the warpath. But… you know I'm here for you, okay?"

Katara sniffled and nodded. Resigned and defeated.

"Okay."

* * *

Katara Iluak did not work in a coffee shop.

She was not a doctor or a teacher or a politician. In truth, she wasn't really much of anything in the eyes of society. She was a number, a statistic – an extra in films, one of those tired professionals who walk by streets with dead eyes, having to be in places she didn't want to be in. Yes, she was a registered nurse, but that didn't really count for much anymore.

Medical professionals were in high demand in just about every part of the world, yes, and that meant that the industry was lucrative. Being the daughter of a chief in the Southern Water Tribe didn't mean much when the tribe itself was practically destitute. They could only afford her four-year Nursing degree, on scholarship at that, and there was no such thing as a free ride to medical school. Even on a partial scholarship – even with a combined salary of her father in the Navy, of her older brother in cybersecurity — it wouldn't be enough to get her through.

She had to work full-time. They couldn't afford for her not to anymore.

The thing is… nurses weren't rare in this day and age of rarified bending. As the medical industry was lucrative, there were many registered nurses in every part of the world and the labour pool was simply too saturated with nurses that hardly anyone was hiring – and even when they were, the conditions were far too awful to convince her to stay.

So, at present, Katara Iluak held the position of Pharmacovigilance Officer with OZAI Insurance, Operations, and Consultancy, the administrative leg of OZAI Corporations. And she was not one to give up so easily but this was bigger than her, she thought.

What the hell was she supposed to do? How do you fight a system that took generations to build, a system that was designed to keep people apart. It would have been so much easier if there were just one enemy, if there were a tangible entity that had attacked and everything changed, and all you had to do was fight this one thing and then everything would be better.

Wars are easy when there was one clear cut villain but how do you kill an idea?

Before, they would get too many emails from her, too many clarifications on certain callers whose claims of negligence she'd found were sound, for she'd already sent out after too many replies with scripted apologies that were drafted by Legal and HR and she was tired of the lies. She'd become tired of lying, saying that there was nothing they could do when there was. She thought she'd been hired to help people — not _this_. Perhaps thinking she could change the world from her little cubicle had been naive.

In truth, she was tired.

In truth, all she wanted to do next was go home and cry.

In truth, there was so much more that she could do.

Then again, you could say the same for just about everyone in this Spirits-forsaken company, this Spirits-forsaken _world_. Most days, she wanted to doubt if there were even really even spirits out there; how could there be any kind of benevolent, higher power out there and let these lower creatures suffer so? Man was beholden to no other religion. They put their faith in greed and in this day and age, there were no gods left. And most days, she wanted to scream at the stars for giving them the will to live their lives by their own free will.

Who thought it was a good idea to let human beings make decisions for themselves?

Katara pondered on this all as she waited in a queue for her shuttle ride home — a van transformed into a public utility vehicle, that would be maximized to the brim which meant that she would be unable to move any of her limbs for the next two hours, if traffic were merciful that day. Joo Dee had kept her in the office for another three hours of unpaid overtime. It was 9:00 PM.

By the way the queue was moving, she wouldn't be able to get on a van for at least another hour. At the first sign of rain, that easy two hours would have stretched out to six in the blink of an eye. An inevitable effect that people were too tired to fight and simply accepted.

It was dark out and pouring out.

Though she normally loved the downpour, it was only in the confines of her bedroom, preferably with a hot drink in her hand. Not like this, when she was miserable enough and just trying to get home. She grit her teeth, mentally went through her mundane schedule, and calculated how much sleep she would get once she got home before she had to do this same thing all over again.

Sisyphus' lament — was there no reprieve from rolling this boulder?

The weekends, she'd felt, she wasted away as her body demanded to catch up on the sleep she'd lost throughout the week. It never got easier, no matter how many times those older than her told her that her body would adjust — that she'd get used to it. She should probably sleep much earlier, just to compensate for how early she needs to get up.

They did not understand how the moon pulled her bones to waken, how the sea sang siren songs that the blood in her veins knew the melody to, and how this same blood stirred like storms under still surfaces beneath her skin for it longed to be with the water. How the tides wept every night as they tried to call the waterbender home, home, _home_.

Because she was _still_ a waterbender, no matter how many times their world tried to drown it out of her. One of the world's last waterbenders, probably, and as she looked up and out of the van to gaze upon the moon, Katara sighed.

Benders were far and few in between now. And if you were gifted (or, as others would say, cursed) with the gift, you did not practise it — for your own presumed safety.

It was not as if the bending of the elements was made illegal, per se. No politician could outlaw a natural occurrence like that so publicly. Quite the opposite as, long ago, the International Department for Elemental Accreditation (IDEA) was given the directive of ensuring that every known bender was to be registered under law. This was difficult to implement as there were no biological signatures that would pinpoint whether a person was a bender or not, even microscopically. So, how do you get people to volunteer to sign themselves onto this kind of register?

You foster fear like a beloved child that everyone nurses and you make them afraid. You make them afraid of their neighbours. And the only thing you have left to trust is the system you believe would protect you, that you believe is unchangeable.

And so, registration was only completely voluntary. That was what they said, at least. And it _was_ voluntary at first. Those who voluntarily registered under IDEA would be "compensated handsomely" for their valued service.

 _What_ valued service, you might ask? Well, that was the catch. No one knew, for no one who went in for voluntary testing ever made it back out of IDEA.

After that, IDEA squads roamed the four nations over the next few decades for search of any benders as a matter of personal safety. No one could remember what it was they were supposed to be afraid of and everyone was too afraid to question it at all.

It was decades upon decades of propaganda and fear.

And through it all, you might ask, where was the Avatar in all of this? The master of all four elements who could have put a stop to all of this?

Legend says that the last Avatar was killed in battle a hundred years ago and never resurfaced. Every tribe, nation, kingdom, and temple had looked for another Avatar since but one simply had never been seen again. Elders say that the last Avatar had been an air nomad, and that had been a hundred years ago.

So much so that people just accepted it for what it was, too tired in the fight to survive to have to fight this too. Education, healthcare, and essentials were only afforded to those who could still sleep at night and when you're too tired to question the system that keeps you living like this, how were you supposed to fight it?

It had a longer history that Katara did not care to remember right then as the van she was in kept screeching and halting, making her toss back and forth in her seat, as it tried to navigate through the infamous Republic City traffic. She rested her head against the window of the van instead and tried to sleep, even though the blood inside her kept trying to move her limbs — to _bend_. She grit her teeth and took heavy breaths.

There was about an hour left of traffic if the way the van moved was any indication. It would be fifteen minutes to walk back to her home at this point. She'd been stuck in traffic jams of the same nature enough to know. She checked her watch and it was near 1:30 AM.

"Screw it," she huffed under her breath. " _Para!_ "

The driver gave a signal with his fingers that told her he would not be parking. She'd simply have to get out. She sighed and managed to get out of the van in the pouring rain. Katara fumbled in her bag to her small, foldable umbrella and struggled to get it out. The stench of floodwater, discarded and expired food, and drowned rats were enough to make her want to wretch.

Wind beat down on her harshly and her flimsy umbrella could barely take it. She knew she could simply bend the water away from her and walk calmly but with this many cars, she could not risk being seen. She only took the neckline of her shirt and pulled it over her mouth. And thus began her rather miserable walk home.

By the five minute mark in the storm, part of her wished that she'd simply stayed in the crowded van. She was soaked. But she'd reached the curve of the highway into the village where she lived. There were less people out in the open now.

And that was when she saw him.

He was a few steps ahead of her. An old man who appeared as though he hadn't known a shower or kindness in years. He had long, thin, greying hair on his head and his face and he was crouched over a dismantled cardboard box, writhing in pain. Katara ran to him, struggling to close her umbrella.

"Are you okay?" she asked him as she knelt down beside him. Her bag landed by her feet. They were barely lit by the streetlamps and the light of the full moon above her. The rain beat down on them still.

The man only writhed and moaned. There was something clearly wrong. There were no other people around. She turned him on his back and he screamed in agony. She put her hand to his rain-soaked head and he clutched onto her wrist with near bone-breaking strength. When she looked into his eyes, she saw only blue terror.

"Mercy," he begged. "Please… _mercy._ "

"I—" she started. She reached for her bag and started scrambling for her phone. "Let me call an ambulance, I—"

Her heart pounded in her chest and acidic bile rose to her throat. She saw the man's eyes roll to the back of his head.

"No," she said, dropping her phone. "No, no, no, hey—"

The man began to choke on something she could not see. He was having a seizure and there were signs of sick that had been washed away next to him. She knew the signs of an aneurysm and this was a man dying in front of her eyes, beneath her hands. The air grew thick again, the same sensation as earlier when her lungs begged for more than air. There was something about the wind, something about the moon told her that there was something else she could do.

"I, I, I—"

' _You can help her. You can heal her. You can fix this,_ ' said a voice in her head. As kind and old as the moon. ' _Katara, it's time. Will you turn your back on him too?_ '

With shaking limbs and tearful, wide eyes, she hovered her healing hands over the man's head.

Beneath her palms, the water glowed bright, merciful blue.

* * *

Katara arrived home shortly after that. Once within the confines of her own house, she waved her hand all over herself and her belongings, bent the water and sent it to flow outside. She had a grin on her face that she could not erase.

"Hey!" said her brother's voice. She knew the sound of agitation when she heard it but she could not stop her grin, could not stop her greedy lungs from taking in as much air as she could. Like she was a fire under rain that would not be put out. "Where the hell have you been?"

"You'll—"

"Do you have _any_ idea what time it is—how _worried_ I've been—"

"I know but Sokka, listen, you'll never believe what just happened—"

"What?" he asked, abrupt and simply not in the mood for it—whatever it turned out to be.

" _I just saved someone's life!_ "

That took him aback. He jerked away from her, eyes wide and mouth open.

"Like… with CPR or something?"

"No!" she said, grinning and still breathless. Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "Sokka, I used my _bending_."

"WHAT?!" he screamed. "You did _what?!_ "

Her smile faltered then but did not fall. Not quite yet. She set her bag on the couch and took off her jacket. She hung it up on the hook by the door. "Calm down, Sokka," she said. "Nobody saw me."

"That's just what they _want_ you to think," he said, quickly clutching her arm, pulling her to him. "IDEA has eyes and ears everywhere! Or have you forgotten what they did to _mom?!_ "

Her smile fell then. She pushed him away and slapped his face.

"Don't you dare!"

He would not be swayed. "Do you _want_ to get taken away, is that it?"

"Oh be louder, Sokka! I don't think the neighbours three blocks over heard you!"

"How irresponsible—how _stupid_ could you possibly get—"

"You're not listening to me!"

"Mom and Dad and Grand-Pakku risked so much to get us here—to get you safe and you're just going to waste it all away for some—"

"I didn't waste it all away!" she yelled back. "If I hadn't stepped in, that man would be dead!"

"And what would have happened to you, huh?" he argued, stepping closer to her. "What if he saw your face? What if he _told_ someone? What if you'd _died_?!"

"So what?!" she screamed, finally. Tears rushed to her eyes, hot and fast. "So fucking what, Sokka?!" She pushed at his chest with both hands. He breathed heavily in front of her, speechless and afraid. Katara looked at him with eyes that told him everything. Tired, exasperated, disgusted eyes.

"Aren't you _tired_ of this? Of this life where we're nothing more than just living to die?" she asked, her voice breaking. "I can't _do_ this anymore."

"Is that what you want, Katara?" he said, crying too. "You want to fucking _die_ —is that it?"

" _No_ , Sokka!" she pleaded shakily with a voice that came from deep, deep within. She put a hand against her chest and cried out, "I want to live! I want to live _my_ life! I want _more_ than this!"

"You could have gotten yourself killed! Don't you get that?!"

"I _do_ get that; don't talk to me like I'm some _child_ —"

"I'll stop talking to you some child when you stop acting like one, Katara," he rebutted. "This is the world we live in! And if you pull shit like that, they're going to kill you. That's no story, that's no exaggeration—they _are_ going to kill you! You _know_ what they are!"

"And what are we? What have we become?" she asked. "I'm just supposed to sit here and take it? Let it happen? What does that make us?"

"You can't just get up and decide that you're going to change the world—"

"YES, I CAN!" she yelled. Her shoulders dropped. "And I have!"

"Katara, listen to yourself!"

"I _am_ listening to myself!" she yelled, full of heart. "For the first time in my _life_ , I'm listening to myself!" A pause. Calmer breaths between them. "All those people who need help—and I can _help_ them, you _know_ that I can."

He sniffed, his face hardening.

"And what about you?" he asked. Stern and quiet. He looked so much like their father then. "And what if it gets _you_ killed?"

"Then at least I'll die trying," she said, lifting her chin and standing up to him. Defiant. Her nostrils flared and she swallowed. "I can't and I will never, _ever_ turn my back on people who need me… not again, not anymore."

Sokka pressed his lips together and said nothing.

"I can't do it anymore, Sokka," she continued. "For the first time since mom died, I feel… _something._ When I saved him, when I used my waterbending so freely like that… it was just—it was _amazing!_ I felt more like myself than I have in… in years, in my entire life."

"You don't know what you're asking of me, Katara."

"I'm not asking you to do anything."

"You're asking me to watch you kill yourself—"

"Sokka—"

"If you do this, you're going to get yourself _killed_ , Katara."

The way he said it with such finality, with such resigned, accepted defeat… she shook her head. Her shoulders dropped and she sighed. Tears in her eyes, she looked up at her older brother for a long moment and spoke with a finality of her own.

"I am _so_ powerful, Sokka, and I can't just sit here and do nothing with what I have. I can do so much more. So much _good._ I can feel it… I can feel it in the very _core_ of me," she said, carefully saying each syllable and gesturing with a claw clutching her own heart. "Don't—don't take this away from me. _Please_ don't stop me," she begged. "Because I don't want to have to lose you to be who I am."

"Lose me?" he asked. She said nothing else. He wiped his own tears away and put a hand on her shoulder. "Hey," he said and sniffed once. He sounded more like himself. " _They_ might need you... but you need _me_. And I will never turn my back on _you_."

"I know it's dangerous," she said, putting her hand on top of his and holding it. "But it feels too right. There's something inside me that's just… begging me to do something. Anything. I can't sit back and watch people suffer anymore. Not when I know I can do something about it."

"I hate this."

"I know," she said. "But I can fight back. I've always been able to and today with Joo Dee, I was… no more. I've had enough."

"Are you sure about this?"

Her reply came without hesitation. "More sure than I've ever been about anything else."

"Okay," he said and nodded. "Katara, you're going to get yourself killed… if you do this alone."

"What do you mean?" she asked, puzzled.

"If we're going to do this, we'll need to be smart about it."

She scoffed—a sound that almost sounded like a laugh. " _We?_ "

"I'm not letting you go all vigilante out there on your own. You're going to need help; I don't care what Girl Power shit you have to say about that, you're _always_ going to need help. Cut me _some_ slack," he said. "Some rules, though."

"What rules?"

"Keep up, Katara," he said. "I'm going to help you with this… _insane_ hero complex you've awakened."

"But you—"

"Are you _trying_ to get me to change my mind?"

"Why would you help me?" she asked. "You've been nothing but—"

"I know," he replied. "But I also know _you_ and how you can get when you get like this. If I don't help you and your noble ass, you're just going to go ahead and do it anyway without any help and get yourself killed even faster. With my help, you might just get away with it. _Might_."

Katara could not help but leap into her older brother's arms and hold him tight.

"Okay, yeah yeah, don't hug me yet."

"Okay," she said, getting back on her feet.

"Some rules."

"Okay."

"Keep it on hold for a little bit."

"What?!" she tried to rebut. " _But—!_ "

"Shut it and listen," he said. "I know you're on a save-the-world high right now after your first real save but this is real life. You have to be smarter than you and you know I'm smarter than everyone. We can't just cut to movie magic of ten seconds later of building a lair and a supersuit and everything's done. This shit? This is going to take a little while, okay? You have to trust me, just—just give me some time to think of a disguise for you or something—hide your secret identity and keep you safe. The safer you are, the longer you can do this."

"What, like a superhero?"

" _You_ said it, sis. Not me. And besides, you're the one with the magic water."

"And you're the one with the plans."

"First order of business," he said. "Your superhero name."

"My _superhero_ name?"

"Branding's important!" he defended. "And if you're going to be Republic City's first actual renegade, borderline suicidal, vigilante superhero, you're gonna need a cool superhero name."

"What does that make you — my sidekick?"

"Your _manager_ ," he corrected. "I may have some connections. Maybe Teo's dad could help. We'll have to see— _oof!_ "

She hugged him again, arms around his middle. She breathed him in deeply and smiled.

"Thank you, Sokka," she whispered.

"Again with the hugging!" he said, rolling his eyes. She laughed. He put his arms around her just the same and returned her embrace. He dropped his voice to a whisper. "Just… call me next time you come home this late. Let me know where you are. And don't get killed, okay? You promise me that."

She said nothing but she made a movement that would have felt like a nod against his head.

"I can't believe you talked me into this," he grumbled.

"Maybe Suki was right," she said. "Maybe you _do_ have a heart."

* * *

 ** _AZULA_**

 _(Six months later)_

"So, what have you found?"

Azula looked at the back of his office chair. "Nothing to report as yet."

He hummed a low growl. " _Disappointing_ , Azula," he said, emphasising each syllable. She balled her hands into fists.

"It's not my fault!" she exclaimed. "Why do you even care about one peasant waterbender trying to fight crime and heal peasants in Republic City? What does it matter? A waterbender's no _threat_ to our plans."

"Azula!" he said as he spun around in his chair and quickly rose from it. His hands slammed the table. "You sound as simple as your brother! I expected _better_ from you."

"I—" she said, swallowing. "I'm sorry, Father. I'll increase my efforts. My team will—"

"You don't know what's at stake here."

"At stake?" she asked. "Wait." A pause. " _You_ don't think—"

"I do, Azula." he said. "I _do._ "

"Oh."

"You now understand why we _cannot_ be seen interfering," he said, straightening himself and his tie. He moved to neaten the cuffs of his shirt sleeve. "But we need this situation and that _girl_ contained. _Alive._ "

Ozai turned his back to his daughter again and looked out the window, staring at the setting sun. "Your foolish uncle finds the situation amusing. He's always called for the dissolution of IDEA, as you know. The President hasn't given comment yet — the situation is too minute to give it any validation — and the same can be said for King Kuei and Chief Arnook."

"Father, I can find her. Just give me _time_ —"

"We do not _have_ time," he said finally. Azula knew better than to dispute that tone. "You know who to call."

She grit her teeth and fought the urge to sneer.

"Yes, Father," she said, nodding once. Her left hand formed a fist while her right remained outstretched on top of it, like a flame. The princess turned abruptly and moved toward the door, having heard her orders.

Just as she reached for the handle, she hesitated. Without turning her head to face her father, she asked, "Do you think she knows?"

"No," he answered. "So work _fast,_ Azula—before she has the chance to find out."


End file.
